EDUCATED TASTES

After Thanksgiving (sometime next week), we get to stare Christmas in the face. That cold hard face, those haunted eyes. That incessant nasty singing. That is to say, everyone who needs an expensive computer game, for themselves or their unemployed offspring.
I do not have any unemployed offspring.
And I don't do computer games.


So today I advised a friend to purchase a brand new pipe for his grandson, and put a matching amount into a trustfund for the little fellow, and do that also for his birthday each year, so that when he goes to college in another dozen years, he'll have a good pipe collection and enough money to date all the young ladies in the Latin department.
It's never too young to start. And you don't want him "borrowing" yours.
You want him to go to college, don't you?
Well then!


See, what with being unmarried, unattached, and having no kids or even any young relatives of grammar school age, my words of advice should be taken in the spirit of avuncularity in which they are given and with which I am bubbling over.
Warmly, and heartfelt.

A growing pipe collection will be a journey in developing good taste for the little fellow.
Can't do anything about family or classmates, but the briars will be all his.
Fine wood, nice tobacco, why, it's better than pudding!


Thanksgiving and Christmas are two holidays when because of certain relatives pipe smokers necessarily become familiar with compost, next to the heap of which they are relegated, because "You are NOT lighting that stinky thing in my house!" And the smell triggers those college age kinfolk who are presently experimenting with vegan chow, because it smells remarkably like either barbecue or a meat eater.

Or something. Not quite sure which.

My nearest college age kinfolk are in Canada. It's currently below freezing there. They burn polar bears and penguins to keep warm. So I ain't visiting any time soon, and I haven't been invited anyway. Besides, I don't like tofurky.



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